Tales From the Road
by Nokomiss
Summary: The Brotherhood,along with Sabretooth, are on a road trip, and pick up an interesting hitchhiker. Rampant insanity. *Complete*
1. Here's Charlie!

Tales from the Road  
  
By Persephone  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men Evolution, I don't own any musician mentioned. I do own the hitchhiker. That's all.   
  
A/N: Hi, ya'll! This story started out as part of a longer story that I lost interest in. But this is one of the parts I wanted to salvage, maybe make its own story. Please tell me what you think, I'll be very grateful. And tell me if you all like this, and would like me to continue it some more. Thanks!   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The rain hit the windshield steadily as Todd Tolensky yawned. Road trip. What a laugh. So far, they had gotten lost twice, nearly been involved in five wrecks, been flipped off by an old woman, and ran out of gas. Hey, maybe they'd make it out of New York State pretty soon. Not to mention the whole reason for the trip was retarded. So what if Ozzy Osborne was signing autographs in Pennsylvania? An autograph wouldn't do them any good if they were dead. And to top it all, it was his turn to drive; meaning everyone else was asleep. He wasn't even old enough to have a permit! Good thing the other guys taught him how to drive after that disastrous incident in Lance's Jeep. Poor squirrel.   
  
He boredly hit the scan button on the radio again, trying to find some decent music. He was sure to keep the volume down, though. He was pretty sure Victor Creed was not a happy kitten when woken up. He still couldn't believe Creed, Sabretooth himself, had shown up to go get autographs. That's how life went, apparently. Adults couldn't be bother with helping with the bills, keeping water on or food in the cabinet, but as soon as someone said, "Ozzy," watch them run. The stations flicked by... Pop .... ugh.... Country..... ugh..... more country.... ugh..... talk radio.....ugh.....Metallica..... pop.... Wait! Todd franticly jabbed at the buttons, trying to get the channel back to the Mighty Metallica. There.   
  
Todd looked back up to the road just in time to swerve back into his lane. The Cadillac he'd nearly hit honked its horn at him. "Sorry." Todd muttered, even though the lady couldn't hear him. But Todd paid extra attention to the road.  
  
That was why he noticed the hitchhiker in time to stop. The guy was just standing on the side of he interstate, wearing faded denim and flannel, with a worn-out duffel bag resting on the pavement beside him. The rain was soaking the poor guy! Todd instantly felt sorry for him, after all, if not for the Brotherhood, it could easily be him standing on the side of the road at everybody else's mercy. Todd pulled over.  
  
The hitchhiker, looking grateful for the ride, ran to the van and opened the door.  
  
"You don't mind it I gets the seat wet, do you?" The hitchhiker asked before climbing inside.   
  
"No." Todd replied. The hitchhiker made himself comfortable in the passenger's seat, setting his gray duffel bag in the floor beneath his feet, and pulling a hand through his dirty brown hair.  
  
"My name's Charlie."   
  
"I'm Todd." Todd replied, briefly wondering if it was smart to pick up a hitchhiker. Even if it was a van filled with super-powered mutants, including an assassin, this guy could be a psychotic mass murderer or something! Too late now, though. Charlie suddenly smiled.   
  
"What?" Todd asked, his voice cracking. Stupid, stupid! He thought. Now he knows I'm scared.   
  
"Master of Puppets is a good song, isn't it, Bob Marley?" Charlie said, and then commenced to sing along. "Dedicated to, how I'm killing you! Come crawling faster! Obey your master!"  
  
Funny how Todd had never noticed how...violent this song was.  
  
"C'mon, boy, Bob Marley wants you to sing along!" Charlie exclaimed. "Your life burns faster!"   
  
Todd joined in, reluctantly. "Obey your master, master, Master of puppets, I'm pulling your strings. Twisting your mind, smashing your dreams,"  
  
"Shush." Charlie suddenly said.  
  
"What?" Todd said. He'd loosened up during the singing. Nobody else in the Brotherhood listened to old Metallica.   
  
"The dreams reminded me. No waking the dead. No waking the living." Charlie muttered. Todd looked at him. He really was a psycho! Charlie then leaned over his duffel bag, still muttering, "No waking the dead. No waking the living." over and over, like a mantra.  
  
"Uhhh, man, you okay?" Todd asked.  
  
Charlie sat straight up, turned slowly towards Todd, and said, "Bob Marley and Jim won't let anything happen to ole Charlie, don't you worry none about me."  
  
"Okay." Todd said. Jim? Bob Marley? This guy was either on some major drugs, or he had just escaped from the loony bin. Either way, Todd was seriously regretting picking the guy up. Todd glanced in the back of the van. Everyone was still sound asleep.   
  
Charlie said suddenly, "You want to meet Jim?"   
  
"Okay." Todd replied. Well, at least he'd find out who Jim was. Please, God, don't let this crazy man pull a head out of his duffel bag. Charlie didn't even reach for his duffel bag. He pulled a string necklace out of his shirt. Dangling from the string was a plastic....skeleton? It seemed to be glowing in the dimness of the van.   
  
"Mr. Todd, let me introduce you to Mr. Jim Morrison. Mr. Morrison, Mr. Todd." Charlie finished the formal introductions, and then said, " Jim prefers to be called by just his first name." There was a silence. "Aren't you gonna say hi to Jim, boy?"   
  
"Uhh, hi, Jim." Todd said. Why wasn't anyone waking up? This guy kept getting freakier and freakier, and he had no clue what to do.   
  
"Bob Marley don't want to meet you yet. He's a bit shy, Bob Marley is." Charlie said, and then turned his attention to the radio. "You like Lynard Skynard, boy?"   
  
"Uhh, they're alright." A slight rustling came from the back. Todd glanced back. Vic sat up. Oh, no, anyone but him. Todd thought. He's gonna maim me for picking up this crazy man.  
  
"Pull over." Vic said as he looked up front and saw a soaking wet guy in flannel playing with a glow-in-the-dark plastic skeleton in the front seat.  
  
"Okay." Todd said, and pulled off into a rest area. Vic climbed out of the back, and into the driver's seat. Todd took the opportunity to get in the very back, where he huddled down, sure that Vic was going to kill him for picking up a hitchhiker.   
  
"Hello, I'm Charlie, and this is Jim." Charlie said, interrupting the silence. Vic stared at him for a minute. Charlie didn't even blink as the killer scrutinized him. Vic growled. Charlie crooked his head to the side, and then said, "Bob Marley thinks you need a tic tac."  
  
  
  
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	2. Poor, dead Robbie

Tales from the Road, Part 2  
  
  
  
  
  
Early next morning....  
  
  
  
Lance Alvers groaned silently as Charlie started singing yet another verse of 'Ironman'.   
  
The man was insane. When he'd woken up, the man had turned to him and said, "I'm Charlie, and this is Jim," pointing towards a plastic skeleton around his neck.   
  
"I'm Lance," He had replied while watching Pietro do the 'crazy' motion near his head. Charlie had then went on to tell him that the butterflies were conspiring against him, and that was why he was roaming the roads, with only Jim and Bob Marley as companions.  
  
"Where's Bob Marley?" Lance had asked, humoring the man. Charlie had reached into his duffel bag, and pulled out a small boa constrictor, which he held up near his ear.  
  
"Bob Marley says hello." Charlie said, and then began muttering, "No waking the dead. No waking the living" over and over. Lance could not figure out why Vic hadn't thrown him out as soon as he'd met him. The only possible answer he could come up with was that Charlie had claimed to have been a roadie for Black Sabbath. Maybe he thought that Ozzy would recognize him. But even that was a weak reason.  
  
"How much longer until we get there?" Lance asked. Charlie was really freaking him out. Why did he repeat, "No waking the dead. No waking the living." over and over?   
  
"We're in north Pennsylvania." Vic growled.  
  
"I thought we were supposed to be in south Pennsylvania by now!" Lance exclaimed. They'd been driving all evening and night, and they only got as far as north Pennsylvania!  
  
"Umm, yeah. I kinda took a wrong turn, yo." Todd admitted. "But we're going the right way now!"  
  
Lance slumped down in his seat. Why? Up front, Charlie pulled a tape out of his duffel bag, and stuck it into the player. The first strains of "Freebird" could be heard.  
  
"What a dumb song." Pietro scoffed.   
  
"Really." Todd agreed. Fred and Lance just nodded in agreement.   
  
*Four minutes later*  
  
"Cuz I'm as free as a bird now...And this bird you cannot cha-a-a-nge!" Everyone in the van sang together loudly, arms flung out dramatically. Then, after some major air-guitaring, the song ended. Everyone dropped their arms and looked around, embarrassed at their singing. But they couldn't help it...its impossible to not sing along with "Freebird."  
  
"Sweet Home Alabama" started to play, but then a high pitched whirrling sound interrupted the guitars.  
  
"That don't sound good, yo." Todd said just as the innocent tapes guts shot out of the player.  
  
"ARG!" Vic yelled as the shiny black tape guts covered him suddenly. Charlie just looked horrified at the tape's sudden, violent demise.  
  
"Robbie!" he exclaimed as he began to gather the tape's remains in his arms, pulling them off Vic and out of the tape player. He then turned to Vic. "Pull over. We must have a funeral."  
  
"I ain't having a funeral for a broken tape." Vic growled in return.  
  
"But we must mourn the passing of this tape, which has done nothing but serve us diligently for its entire, if not shortened life." Charlie cried. Lance was amazed. The man was not being melodramatic, he really believed everything he was saying.  
  
Finally, Vic said, "Fine." and they pulled to the side of the interstate. They all piled out of the van after Charlie, and then stood for a moment on the muddy ground.   
  
"How are we gonna dig a grave?" Todd asked. Pietro paused for a second, and then ran back to the van, and was back with their group in about three seconds, holding out three plastic spoons left over from their Wendy's meal the night before.  
  
A few minutes later, a hole was dug, and the tape's remains were put in it as neatly as possible. Charlie stood at the head of the grave.  
  
"My friends, we are gathered here, in the mud, to mourn the passing of a great tape, that fell victim to a terrible tragedy. Robbie, our dear, dear friend, served our noble cause without complaint, providing us with not only quality entertainment, but priceless memories of pleasant tunes. Robbie, our cassette, will be sorely missed. In reverence of his memory, we are constructing a monument in his honor."  
  
Charlie motioned towards Fred, who scraped the dirt over the mangled corpse of Robbie. Todd then stepped forward, and stuck the Wendy's spoons in the ground, where they wavered slightly in the breeze.   
  
The Brotherhood then solemnly fled back to the van.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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	3. Bob Marley will miss you.

Chapter 3!  
  
Author's notes: I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed this silly fic. I just finished it up, because, as you can notice from the time lapse between updates, I completely forgot about it. Most of this chapter was already written, in fact. Sorry. But I finished it up, although, if ya'll want a sequel, it might be fun. I like Charlie. Anyways, on with the conclusion of "Tales from the Road."  
  
  
  
***  
  
"I like big butts and I cannot lie! You other brothers can't deny!" Fred Dukes sang cheerfully, then was stopped abruptly as he was pelted with Cheez-Balls. "Hey!" he protested as he gobbled a few of the unnaturally orange snacks, "You don't throw stuff at Charlie when he sings!"  
  
"That's because we're afraid Charlie will kill us in our sleep." whispered Todd fearfully, glancing towards the front seat where the aforementioned hitchhiker was deeply engrossed in a conversation with Vic about the buoyancy of bodies, dead versus alive.  
  
"Besides, you're a retard." Lance interjected helpfully. "And how can you like Sir Mix-a-Lot when you're a redneck from Texas?"  
  
"I'm not a redneck!"  
  
'Of course not!" Pietro joined in. Fred-bashing was fun, especially the unnatural shades of purple Fred's pumpkin-shaped head turned.   
  
"Gah!" Fred yelled incoherently. Vic and Charlie turned around, and both glared at the heavy mutant.   
  
"I bet he would float real good." Charlie said. "Lots of nice fat, right, Bob Marley?"  
  
Todd squeeked, and hid behind the seat.   
  
"He knows you're there." whispered Lance. "And he threatened Fred, not you."  
  
"But, yo, that still don't mean I'm safe." Todd replied. Lance rolled his eyes, and returned his attention to his Gameboy.  
  
"Hey, we're almost there!" Fred said enthusiatically.   
  
"Really?" Todd replied.   
  
"Yep." Growled Vic from the driver's seat.  
  
"Yea!" Cheered Charlie. "Can't wait to see Ozzy again. Man, it was crazy. I'm sure he'll remember me. No way can he forget that."  
  
"Forget what?" Pietro asked.   
  
"The arrest, man. It was crazy."  
  
"Arrest?" Lance asked, unsure if he even wanted to know.  
  
Charlie didn't answer, he just stared blankly out the window and petted Bob Marley.  
  
Vic suddenly pulled over. "We're here."  
  
Lance stared out the window. They were parked on the side of the interstate, with only fields and a few trees in sight. Charlie stuck Bob Marley back into his duffel, and climbed out of the van.   
  
"It's been great. You live in New York, right? Bayville? I'll come and visit sometime." Charlie said, sticking his head back in the window.  
  
"Yeah, we live in the big mansion with the "Xavier's Institute" sign out front." Todd told the hitchhiker.  
  
"Gotcha. See ya, then." Said Charlie, and he moseyed off down the interstate. They could hear him muttering, "No waking the dead. No waking the living." even as Vic rolled the window up and got back on the interstate.  
  
"Good thinking, Todd." Pietro said after riding in silence for a minute.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"He was really scary." Fred said.  
  
Vic snorted. "I just didn't want to be kicked out of the austographing before I got a picture of me with Ozzy."  
  
"Oh."  
  
They rode on, and arrived at the store where Ozzy was signing autographs with no major problems. Vic got his autograph, and his picture with the Oz-man, while the Brotherhood created only slight mayhem. The trip home was amazingly trouble-free, except for that one dog, but Vic swore he tried to swerve. Of course, he swerved in the direction of the dog, but they didn't really see any need to point that out. They arrived home safely, and then laid in bed giggling for hours at the thought of the X-Geeks reaction to Charlie.  
  
  
  
The End.  
  
  
Feedback is appreciated.  
  
~Persephone 


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